


Something Sweet

by thecarlysutra



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shops, Crushes, Embarrassment, Flirting, Happy Ending, Innuendo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 08:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20093995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: Pete's first day on the register gets a little interesting. Written for Day 3 of Writers Month 2019 for the promptcoffee shop AU.





	Something Sweet

  
It was just a stupid summer job for a little spending money. Pete had decided he'd go stir crazy if he took summer classes, too, but his mother worried he'd get himself into trouble if he didn't have anything to do, so she'd urged him to find a little structure. Thirty hours a week, not even full time. Pete had agreed, mostly to make her happy (only partly because he knew she was right) and he'd hoped for something a little more glamorous than the local coffee shop, but he was an incoming college sophomore—not even really a sophomore yet; he wouldn't be until the fall—so his options were limited. It was just a dumb summer job. It wasn't his future. Pete Mitchell was destined for greatness, for something bigger than a lazy college town and learning the difference between an espresso and an Americano. 

He had been there three weeks, and it was his first day on register by himself. They put him on after the morning rush so he wouldn't get overwhelmed by the influx of people in a big hurry, and so far things were B-O-R-I-N-G. 

Until _he_ came in. 

It was one o'clock, and a few students taking summer art classes entered the shop in a group. At the periphery, listening to what his classmates were saying but not actively engaging in the small talk himself, was a tall, blond guy with pale eyes and a kind of perpetual pensiveness about him. He and Pete had been in Bio 110 together the previous semester, but it was one of those huge, auditorium lectures with three hundred students, so Pete didn't even know his name. All he knew was he had the most fervent, ridiculous crush on him. 

The blond guy had routinely come to class carrying a lacrosse stick, so Pete had taken to thinking of him as Lacrosse Guy. Not very poetic, but whatever. It worked. The point was Lacrosse Guy was the last of the students to order his coffee, and by the time he got up to the register, Pete's heart was racing. 

"Hi," Lacrosse Guy said. "Can I please have a medium latte and, um…" He eyed the pastry case. "A cherry Danish?" 

"Uh, sure," Pete said. "In the mood for something sweet?" 

Lacrosse Guy studied him a moment, and then quirked a wry smile. "I don't know, what are you offering?" 

"A Danish," Maverick said dryly. 

Lacrosse Guy laughed. "Okay, yeah." He ran his pale eyes over Pete as he walked to the pastry case and back. "Do you have a sweet tooth, Pete?" 

"I don't know, how sweet do you think you are?" 

Lacrosse Guy grinned. "I think that's the kind of thing you should find out for yourself, don't you?" 

Pete felt himself blush a little. He was working on his comeback when the shop's door jingled open, and another half dozen customers came in. 

"Shit," he said. "I mean—it's six seventy-five. And, um, and I need your name? For the order." 

Lacrosse Guy paid with a ten, and put his change in the tip jar. 

"It's Tom," he said. 

Maverick smiled. Tom. _Tom_. 

"To be continued," Tom said, and went to wait for his coffee. 

Pete had six customers queued up, but he was finding it hard to care. He had to do something to signal his intent. Stake a claim. He'd gone a whole semester without even asking Tom for his name; he wasn't going to let this slip away without throwing everything he had at it. 

He took his Sharpie and a fresh cup, and in his most careful lettering he wrote out Tom's name, a short note, and then his own phone number. Then he handed the cup down the line. 

Pete started ringing up the new customers, but his mind kept flitting to Tom and the cup and whether it would pan out. How would Tom react? Maybe he wasn't interested; maybe he flirted with everyone. 

By the time Tom's latte was done, Pete had already convinced himself it was a stupid gambit and there was no possible way someone like Tom would want to go out with someone like him. And then the worst happened. 

Ron, at the end of the line, was calling out names for people to come get their coffee.   
He was in mindless mode, and read, in his booming voice, "Coffee for 'Tom, I think you're really cute and we should get together some time, call me, Pete, five-five-five, zero-one-one-four.'" 

A dead silence followed. Not even the machines dared make a noise. 

Tom collected his latte. Some of the other patrons giggled. Pete prayed for the earth to open up and swallow him. He kept his eyes down, and started to run to the back, but then Tom sidled up to the counter, and he froze. 

"So, I'm a little embarrassed," Tom said mildly. 

Pete was sure they could see his blush from space. "You are?" 

"Yeah. I was planning on asking for your number before I left, but you beat me to the punch." He smiled, and it was like a ray of sunshine, and Pete relaxed. 

"I guess I did." 

"You're confident. I like that." 

"Usually people call me cocky and tell me they don't like it." 

"Well," Tom said, "they're missing out. So. When do you get off?" 

Pete blushed again. "What?" 

"Your shift? When does it end? They don't make you sleep here, do they?" 

"Oh, no, I—um, five thirty." 

"Okay, so how 'bout I meet you here when your shift ends, and take you to dinner? Do you like Japanese?" 

Pete felt his nerves and embarrassment roll off his shoulders. He grinned. "Yeah. Hell yeah, I'd love to." 

Tom smiled. "It's a date. Oh, and one more thing." 

"Yeah?" 

"Five-five-five, eight-one-six-zero. Now we're even. See you tonight, Pete." 

He winked and left, sipping his latte. Pete grinned. Yeah, he would.  



End file.
